


there's no fair in farewell

by meltedmarsbar



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, also minho dies, it basically? starts at the ending when minho dies and goes backwards from there, it's a little fucked up tbh i'm sORRY, not actual sex (yet), sorry about that, there's a little fooling around but like, there's like??? a handjob? a mentioned blowjob?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:32:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meltedmarsbar/pseuds/meltedmarsbar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho dies, and all Newt can think about is lightning.</p><p>_</p><p>The boy who'd survived a lightning strike, the boy whose kisses were like lightning, who was lightning, bright and fleeting, beautiful and deadly, short lived, had died in a bloody house fire. Because he'd been asleep.</p><p>Fucking typical. Fucking Minho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's no fair in farewell

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Jamie (sulfuric on here, 00250 on tumblr) for helping to proofread this! You're the real MVP and ily.

**v.**

Newt wears black to Minho's funeral.

The choir sings Amazing Grace, somber voices filling the church. That Newt's boyfriend hadn't stepped into since Freshman year of high school.

That he'd never step into again.

"I want you to know," Minho's mother says, dabbing at her pallid, tear stained cheeks with a silk handkerchief, "That my son was in love with you. Always was."

Newt glances at Thomas, forces a smile. Of course she says this _now_ \- now that her son is in a coffin, closed casket because he burned so badly that no could even recognize Minho. They only knew it was him in the house because of his dental records.

The boy who'd survived a lightning strike, the boy whose kisses were like lightning, who  _was_  lightning, bright and fleeting, beautiful and deadly, short lived, had died in a bloody house fire. Because he'd been  _asleep_.

Fucking typical. Fucking Minho. Newt's gaze leaves the teary eyed brunette, stares straight ahead for a moment, then looks over to Minho's distraught mother.

"I- God, I loved him too. I still love him. I always will."

* * *

  **iv.**

It's usually not a big deal when they fight. But when it is... It gets bad. Ugly.

And there's so much (too much, far too much) carnage.

Because - let's face it. Minho's volatile, mercurial. His anger burns, hot and quick, threatening to destroy everyone around him, including himself. But Newt, his anger is cold. Not fast like Minho's, explosive and destructive, but a slow burn. Built over time. Harboured like a grudge until that final push, that thing that makes him snap like a twig.

When they fight, they go for the jugular. For the kill.

"Why the fuck do you treat me like a kid?!" Minho yells, pointing an accusatory finger at his boyfriend.

Newt bristles, snarls, "Because you act like it! Moping around like a bloody martyr all the time, looking at me like I'm supposed to be able to solve all your trivial problems. Like I'm your buggin' therapist. Boo fucking hoo, Thomas is too busy with work to spend time with me! My heart fuckin' bleeds for you, Minho. Get the fuck over it and solve your own bloody problems."

"Get over it, huh?" Minho snaps, fist clenched and ready to fly, and Newt's preparing himself to fight back, kick his ass and take him down a peg or two. "How you got over your depression by launching yourself off the roof of your house? Huh?!" 

Newt's eyes go wide, and that's when it happens.

Minho launches a vase, complete with fake daisies, dangerously close to Newt's face. It just barely grazes him, smashes against their headboard instead, the ties that were wrapped around Minho's wrists last night still knotted against the wooden slats.

And Newt just stares at the vase, broken like the two of them, like the ruins after a hurricane. Only able to be fixed if someone really tries - and all the more beautiful for how it's shattered.

_One_ of them has been trying. The other hasn't.

"You'd better have missed on purpose," he finally says, voice too calm. In control. "Because if you meant to hit me, I'll beat you bloody, you piece of shit."

With that, he turns on his heels, storming out of the apartment and getting in his car.

Newt's at Alby's house when his phone rings.

Newt's at Alby's house when he starts sobbing into his best friend's arms, denying over and over that it's Minho's body in there, up in flames hotter than his temper.

Newt's at Alby's house when he hunched over the toilet, throwing up the lemon yogurt cupcakes he and Minho made before their stupid fight.

Newt's at Alby's house when doctors confirm over the phone that the boy he loves the boy who kisses him good night, who steals all the popcorn at the movies, hogs the covers, grudgingly gives Newt his jacket when it's cold because Newt always (intentionally) forgets his jackets (because Minho's always smell like him, and all Newt wants is Minho, Minho, _Minho_ -) is dead.

* * *

  **iii.**

It's 2AM when Newt's woken up by Minho's ringtone of his phone. 

If he got drunk and can't drive home again, Newt's not going to be pleased. He always does this when he's out with Thomas.

"Babe, I need you- I need you, I'm in the hospital-"

"What?!" Newt sits up straight, eyes flying open as he scrambles out of bed. "Bloody hell, which hospital? Are you okay?"

"It's not me, it's Thomas- he's not breathing, Newt, he's- they won't even let me see him-"

"Where are you, Min?" Newt yanks on one of Minho's shirts from where it's been thrown on the floor, then stumbles into their living room to grab his car keys. "I'm coming, just calm down."

The hospital walls are stark, blinding white,  and Minho looks so out of place in his dark jeans and a black shirt.

His eyes light up when he sees Newt, and the blonde pulls him into a tight hug. "You okay?"

"Thomas is an idiot," Minho says against Newt's neck, one of his hands on the small of his back, the other sliding into his hair. 

"What happened?"

Minho's voice is muffled against Newt's neck, but he doesn't move. Refuses to move. "Allergic reaction," he mumbles, the hand on Newt's back now slung around his waist. He smiles (it's more of a smirk, really) against Newt's neck. "Course you came runnin' when I called."

"Wanker," Newt rolls his eyes. "I 'spect you think this is some fucked up kind of booty call, eh?"

"Either way you come for me, baby."

Minho snickers and slides his hand over Newt's ass.

If they weren't here for Thomas, Newt would drag Minho into the nearest bathroom and fuck him senseless. Maybe get to his knees, wrap his lips around Minho's cock, make him have to stifle his moans with a hand slapped over his mouth while Newt slides his tongue over Minho's slit.

But they  _are_  here for Thomas, so Newt just grins and presses a kiss to Minho's cheek - a promise for later.

One that Newt intends to keep.

* * *

  **ii.**

Sometimes Newt thinks that Minho forgets how strong Newt is. Not because he thinks Newt's fragile - they both know that's not true. But because he's got a halo of fluffy blonde hair, warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners, and a boyish smile, all bright white teeth and smooth pink lips. 

Right now though... This isn't one of those times. Because Newt's straddling the black haired boy, his lips attached to Minho's neck, hands pinning Minho's wrists down on either side of his head, Newt's weight keeping him pressed to the mattress.

"Newt," Minho whines, trying to shift his hips, but Newt just locks his legs tighter around Minho.

"Stay put," Newt murmurs against Minho's heated skin. His teeth graze Minho's neck lightly before he bites down harshly. That'll leave a mark.

Good.

And, God, Minho whimpers, actually _whimpers_ , tries to twist his wrists free, and Newt can't help but chuckle. Only he gets to see Minho like this. No one else gets to have Minho whining and groaning and struggling under them. No one.

"You're mine," Newt says in between sucking bruises all over Minho's neck, grinding their still clothed cocks together through their jeans. Minho moans, pushing his hips up.

"More like you're mine, blondie," Minho pants out, wrapping his legs around Newt's waist, and-

And Newt's on his back in two seconds flat, staring up into Minho's eyes before he can so much as blink.

Huh.

Both of Newt's wrists are trapped above his head, criss-crossed and held down by one of Minho's hands. The fingers of Minho's free hand toy with the zipper on Newt's jeans, ghosting along the dark grey denim, just brushing against Newt's still clothed cock, and the taller boy shivers, already pushing up against Minho's grip.

"Gotcha," Minho murmurs, pressing wet open-mouth kisses to Newt's neck and jaw, teeth grazing the blonde's sensitive skin, which all of a sudden feels like it's on fire.

"Min-"

Then Minho's lips are on his, tongue licking into Newt's parted mouth, and he's kissed into silence, relaxing and fighting Minho's grip all at once. His arms try their best to wriggle free, but his body seems to go lax under Minho's weight.

The hand on Newt's crotch unzips his jeans, slips his hand into Newt's boxers, long fingers wrapping around his cock, and then Newt's moaning, trying to thrust into Minho's hand, but the other boy has his legs firmly locking Newt's hips down. He whimpers softly into Minho's mouth, and Minho laughs into the kiss, pressing Newt's wrists down more firmly when he pushes up again.

"Lemme take care of you," Minho whispers, their lips still locking a little clumsily. His breath tastes like soda and strawberry ice cream, and his breath, his voice,  _him_ , makes Newt's head spin.

Because no one's taken care of Newt in a long time.

* * *

  **i.**

"Thomas, this is Newt, my boyfriend. Newt, this jackass is Thomas. I guess he tags along with me sometimes."

The brunette sitting next to Minho at their booth in the diner near campus rolls his eyes, and nudges Minho, sticking out a hand for Newt to shake.

"I'm Thomas," he says, matching Newt's grin as they shake hands. "And don't listen to Min, I'm his best friend," then his voice lowers conspiratorially. "Since kindergarten. So I've got all his photos from his scene phase-"

"Thomas, I fucking swear-"

"And his bowl cut! Dude, d'you remember that? All of fucking middle school, you loser."

Thomas seems nice enough. A bit over eager, sort of like a golden retriever that lays the newspaper in down at the feet of its owner, tail wagging, blissfully unaware that they've ruined the paper by drooling on it.

Newt likes him well enough, though.

"I've seen the bowl cut photos," Newt says, grinning at Thomas, who is turned towards Minho. "Took some photos with my phone, too. Thought I'd use 'em for whenever I want Minho to get me a coffee."

"I hate you both," Minho declares, crossing his arms and pouting like a child. "Fucking assholes, both of you. Shouldn't've introduced you, I regret it already." 

"I could fuck your asshole tonight," Newt says automatically, and Minho chokes on his strawberry banana milkshake. Thomas, however, doesn't even flinch.

In fact-

Thomas laughs, eyes never leaving Minho. "Careful with this one, man. Looks like he's gonna be the death of you."

* * *

  **vi.**

Thomas and Newt - they survive. Sort of. But even the parts of them that didn't go up in flames with Minho are charred. 

They cope. Have dinner; it's a weekly thing now - Thomas buys take out, Newt bakes brownies. They talk. Laugh hollowly. Smile with dead eyes.

Pretend it's Minho sitting opposite them instead.

"I loved him, y'know," Thomas slurs one night, slender fingers, sticky from Newt's peanut butter brownies, wrapped around his fifth can of beer. Some of the beer slops on his shirt, and Newt sighs.

"I know, Tommy."

"You don't- you don't get it, I-" he stammers, like it's hard for him to speak, like he can't force the words past his throat. Like they're stuck there. He stumbles to his feet, a hand at his throat. "N-Newt, I-"

"Was in love with Minho," Newt says calmly, gets up, walks towards the door so his back is facing the brunette. "And he was in love with you too, Tommy. S'not much I don't know."

Usually Thomas can't shut up, won't ever stop that stupid bloody chattering - but now - now he's _finally_ quiet.

And it feels like a victory. Like Newt's finally won.

A hand reaches for the door knob, twists it open. Newt steps outside, not bothering to even glance at the boy that his dead boyfriend had been in love with. His gloved hands are shoved deep in his pockets - it's far too cold to be going anywhere without gloves now.

"How's that peanut allergy coming along, Tommy?" Newt asks, voice splintering, colder than the icy air.

The sound of the door slamming is louder than Thomas falling to his knees.

* * *

 " _I want you to know that my son was in love with you. Always was."_

_"I- God, I loved him too. I still love him," Thomas' voice cracks. "I always will."_

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY I don't know where the heck this came from, but have Dark!Newt. -jazz hands- I'm on tumblr, my URL is saveminho! Come say hi! (Or send me prompts ^^)


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